Skyrim Fan Fiction Library

[PikaNikz]

Hello writer! I'm creating a Fan Fiction Library mod for Skyrim that will contain as much Skyrim-related fan fiction as I can gather and I would like to present your art to others in this. If you're interested... Your writings must be lore-friendly. Comment in this topic or PM me with a link to each story you want published and please use this list of Book Covers to let me know which you want to use.

 

If your story is long I will divide it into as many volumes as needed. They will each have the same cover and each will say "part # of #". I will be checking every page for proper formatting to ensure it looks good. A spell check will be done. If a book contains adult themes, "Mature Content" will be written on the first page. Otherwise the first page will always be blank, followed by a page with the title and author name.

 

My plan is to release the Library as soon as I have a decent amount of books. I will update the mod with new books as I gather more and the library itself will grow in size as needed.

 

I'm open to new ideas. Thank you for reading this.

[raptor108]

Sounds great. Where are the books going to be? Separate new library?

Would contribute if I had any talent. Good luck.

[PikaNikz]

The books will be in a new library.

 

I've been contacted by a team that has already started a project called Skyrim Publishing which is very similar to what I am doing. We have joined our resources and are working together.

 

If you're an author and want your Skyrim-related work published in the game, or if you are a modder and want to learn some good tips on book formatting, go to:

 

http://tesmods.blogspot.com/

[jordanLoL]

This sounds awesome. I read every single book that I come across in game. Can't wait to read them.

[Brandy1123]

Place Holder for Story 2 - As PikaNikz has done, please ask before using my writing. I am sure I'll give the approval.

 

As Always, these stories are in fun. What your mind gives and tells you from my stories are your doing and not mine.

 

I hope you enjoy .

 

 

 

 

Taste of my THUUM

 

 

She sat on the edge of the bench peering around the open room that doubled as the rest of the building. A small cooking pot over the fire and a mistreated animal hide covering a worn dirty slab of stone that served as the flooring. Cold was the room, but the kindled flame of the prevoius night was still glowing and still fresh in her mind. Looking across the place, a small, crudely shaped table stood. Its poor quality was lost in the strewn rags and scraps that littered the whole area.

 

"Was it really worth it", she thought. "A night I shall not soon forget". The only thing wrong, after such a euphoric evening, was the bad taste stirring in her mouth. She knew it's flavor and dreaded the after taste. Still, it was worth it. Worth every moment. Never before had she been taken to such heights until she met that unkept son of some forgotten union many long years ago. He was not a tall man, short neither. She looked him over and laughed to herself. His hair was a mix of browns, greys and dirt. The kiddish grin he always had painted on his face tickled her. He was no warrior. He probably would run from an altercation and leave her to fend for herself, she thought. Still, he was not overweight. Just right she said. I guess.

 

He looked up as he stirred some portion of a once living critter in a rusted iron pot. The belly of the thing took on a reddish glow, like an apple at harvest. It was hot. She smiled. She remembered being hot the previous night. They both stirred a measure of something and she glowed for hours afterwords. She slightly trembled, remembering the feeling. No man has given her so much, filled her so much, taken her over the edge. She smiled again. The man had experience to match his looks and age. The way he opened up her vat and stirred the contents to just the right consistancy. The care he took as he placed his ladle into her cask and started to stoke the fire.

 

He looked up at the woman. The one, not so many hours previous, whom he shared his cup with. "The stew is about ready, if you're hungry. We can eat something before we get on", then he winked. So sure and confident was he. She just knew she couldn't resist his charms, his cordialness and his affluant simpleness. She joined him for a brief bite, if only to remove the after taste that still lingered in her mouth and on her breath. They sat there silently for a while until he spoke. His talk but a wisper, like always, to draw you in. "I gave you my best last night, you know. I'm not sure I'll be able to measure up like that again". She responded, "If only once in my life I've had that experience, none shall compare to your dilligence to the job you preformed". "To kind, you are. But I must say, I have had many taste my THUUM before you. Few have had the staying power you posses when its in their hand, my dear", he said. She responded, "The heights you have taken me with your THUUM will surely not be so easily forgotten. For I myself have placed to my lips many that did not measure up. I know what I love and desire. You have given me what I needed. You filled my being. You're THUUM possesed me. I need your THUUM again. Can we? Can you give it to me as you did just hours before".

 

"My, Dear", he said. "You speak of this as if its some trivial matter. As if I'd just lay my best down for anyone who dares ask me to bare my all to them. To you, I would wish to share again the strength and potency of my THUUM, but I cannot.For you see, the lads from the guard house will be visiting me shortly and I must ask you to leave". Angrilly she stood up and said, "So, you'd share your THUUM with your mates instead of with me? You would prefer them to sample your THUUM and partake of all you have. They are unable to open up to you as I have done. You could never fill them as you have filled me. You could never have them with you, speaking as we did of places we'd share. Yet, you chose them over me". sighing, she calmly said," I understand. It's what you prefer. I know I cannot offer you what they can, for I do not posses their weaponry".

 

Sadly she looked up as if broken in spirit. She painstakingly walked over to him and slowly knelt down before the man." Is there anything I can do to change your mind. Is there anyway I can convince you to give me your THUUM as you have this past eve". Looking deeply into her eyes, she already knew the answer he was about to give. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you, but I must ask you to leave."

 

As she departed, she looked back towards the small alcove that held the copper casks and lids. The remnants of a small honey comb, slowly dripping its golden treasure from the pot, he asked her to bring , that sat quietly as if untouched. The honey taunted her of the night before and the taste of what she surely would miss. She poked at the fire before she left, saying more to herself then to anyone, "3 times have you gotten it warm yet it did not rise. 3 times have you input your herbs into my honeypot. 3 times have you pulled out your ladle when I thought it was time. Yet each instance you refused to give me your secrets. Refused to let me have and control your THUUM. I will treasure what we shared, and I thank you." She then departed. After the door closed, he quietly said, "3 times you say, three times you say, 3 times you say. To that I say once. My thuum is mine to give whom I please. As for my secrets, its not 3 times 3 its three times once.

 

Thrice Heated Underfermented Ullage Mead.

 

And to that my dear sweet serving girl, is why I make the drink, my THUUM, and you just get to taste it and bring me the coin.

Edited March 3, 2012 by Brandy_123

[Fortunado3]

Currently working on a Three Book epic (in the vein of Waughlin Jarth's epics) about an ex Legionnaire surveyor, Imperial Explorer granted by Imperial Geographical Society to undertake a Hajj to Torval (being the first non Khajiit to take the pilgrimage), a few years after the unification of Tamriel at the beginning of the third Era. Told from the perspective of an ambitious amateur explorer who inadvertently bids and wins the journals and late memoirs of said protagonist at a second century, 3rd Era Estate sale.

 

The second book will chronicle the prominently rising Explorer as he maps and surveys the many tributaries, inlet and rivers throughout Black Marsh/Argonia, several years after the unification and some 2 years after the Hajj.

 

The third and last will be the

doomed

scaling of the summit of High Hrothgar (which I had to wait to start working on so I got the Skyrim lore right).

 

 

For now, you can have this:

 

Edit: Hmm, cant access my account on the Beth Skyrim forums for some reason. Could some one do me a huge favor and copy paste my fan fic from there if I tell them where it is? Please? Fish sticks for life for some help.

Edited March 3, 2012 by Fortunado3

[PikaNikz]

Fortunado3, that sounds wonderful. I would love to add your saga to this collection. Send me that link to your book (and all the fish sticks in China!) and I'll grab the text.

[Brandy1123]

Place Holder for Story 3 - As PikaNikz has done, please ask before using my writing. I am sure I'll give the approval.

 

As Always, these stories are in fun. What your mind gives and tells you from my stories are your doing and not mine.

 

I hope you enjoy .

 

 

Skeever's Got Tail

 

 

It came to pass, the greatest war ended and the survivors slowly but surely wound their way back home. Usually it was far from the town they started their journey from, but a place they could now feel safe and secure. The struggles each faced, known truely only to themself was burried deep. The pain of remembering what they had to do in order to survive the terrors of war. Swords were hung and stored, while plows were forged and trees were felled. Much they all lost, soldier, sailor, merchant, farmer, smith and child. All were changed and all lost an innocents you can never regain.

 

Over time people joined in smaller circles, again growing and building. These areas became wayside stopping and resting points on journies yet to be completed by would be travellers. Like all towns of migrant societies, the bad often followed or slithers in with the good. Usually undetected, this low class and bred of society dwells on the fear, anger, and wealth of the hard working towns folk. In one such village, not to far from here, lived a certain miscreant, Karne "The Skeever" Ingavor. The skeever had a horrible reputation as a lazy good for nothing lout. His vile language, nasty disposition and disfigurement, did not help his cause. Children feared him and nightmares often revolved around The Skeever. You see, Karne was born during a raid on that old ruins to the south. It was there when his eyes first looked towards the heavens. It is said, his mother died that day and he himself should have perished.

 

Sometime during that battle, a healer was moving from fallen to fallen trying to aid the injured as best she could. As the story is told, She found the welp barely clinging to life. The healer attended the child and carried him off with the other injured she tended. A few years passed as Karne was under the care of this healer of Stendar. From the start of his unsettleing life, Karne started to change. His body almost daily took on a form completely of its own. Mis-shapen from the normal appearance, he continued to change. Over time, his disfigurement became a grave concern to his gaurdian. The Stendar follower, not only a healer, but a Vigilant. She started to see some non-human traits in the now young man. Unsettleing and un-nerving as they were. Small apendages were sprouting from his head and back. Even his skin was different. The Healer knew of abominations and dealt with them long years ago during the war. She herself hunted down Daedra and those that worshipped them.

 

She knew she had to end this young life before it was too late. She struggled with it daily, weekly and yearly. often at night, she held a dagger just inches from his throat, closely shifting it back and forth. As to hypnotize herself to do the deed but always falling short of the task. On a night some 18 years after he was pulled from the arms and his deceased mother, Karne awoke to a gurgling sound. A sound like air blowing deep, thick bubbles in a hot spring, followed by a loud thud. Looking around in the darkness, Karne found the source. His protector had killed herself. Unable to do what she was sworn to do, gone mad from years of mental anguish and struggles, she did only what she could do. Allow the child, the man to live, and she herself would take his place and finally be at peace.This caused Karne to go mad. He tore apart the small cottage. He destroyed everythig he could get his hideous hands on. In his fit of rage and anger for all he had become and endured, Karne ran deep into the forest.

 

After several seasons in the wilderness, he came across a village. At first the people were afraid of this monster, but slowly over time, they allowed him in and near the town. People still feared him, but he was tolerated during the hours of light. As with most settlments, vermin inhabit the areas just outside of town. As Karne had no real way to gain enployment, he often killed the deer, rats, and skeever. He sold the meat and pelts of all his efforts to sustain himself with both furs, meat and a rare septims from the spoils he sold. The towns children dubbed him "The skeever" due to his rat-like, un-human form.

 

Karne stayed on the outskirts of town and watched and hated the town folk. All their laughing and eating and drinking and gold and houses and things that shine and hugs and girls. Karne started watching the girls. He watched the pretty ones move about through the town square, down to the river's edge to draw water, the houses they lived in and who else was with them. Often while he sat, he was force to look at a stiff apendage he had, growing from his very body. It caused much discomfort at times and he knew not what to do with it. He did noticed that none of the girls had one. Still and again he looked on.

 

He saw patterns in people. The same ones did the same activities, at the same times on the same days. He saw hunters depart on long journies leaving women folk to tend the farms and stalls and forges. Women left too, but he wanted a girl who wouldn't hurt him, if you know what I mean. So Karne watched, then he waited. Not a long many weeks into his wait, a party of hunters moved out away from the town with full packs and gear. He knew the time was right and moved down towards a farmhouse as the hunters crested a distant hill and vanished from sight.The Skeever moved across a window casing of the house leaving a slight shadow, unseen from the girl inside. He looked through several windows 'til he spotted the young Nord. Karne, though not fully a man, had desires like every other man. His desires burned for many years as he sat and plotted. All his pent up fire will be spent this day. He could feel the hardness and thickness of the bulge he dilligently kept hidden all these years, rub against the famrhouse wall as he slowly crept around to the back door.

 

The door itself was unlocked and the skeever silently moved into the light of the house. So quiet was he, that it appeared as two shadows moving around and away from the glowing embers in the firepit. Upon gaining the room on the left, Karne spotted the farm girl of his memory. As he moved closer, the bulge under his skins rubbed the doorway as he clung to the shadows and passed into the room. Close now, his heartbeat raced. He watched her chest rise and fall with each breath. He was mesmerized as her lips opened and closed slowly to some dream she was hoping would never cease.

 

As Karne moved further into the room, his desire to reach this girl grew. The protrusion causing him so much anxiety was tenting his breeches and they caught on a nail stuck in the doorway. As he moved towards his target, he wiggled and squirmed to free himself. A loud tearing sound was heard as the nail refused to let go and the thin, worn, hide material was wrent. Thrusting outward came all the length and hardness he had. The girl awoke with a start and sensed the intent of the other. She raised her arms as he made contact and bound her to the bed with his full force. Frantically, she tried to push him off. The more she struggled, the more he twisted and turned. She went to grab him and tried to escape. Thats when she felt it. The hard thick protrusion. She desparately grabbed for it and squeezed.

 

Karne during this struggle was taken back by her quickness and strength. Then to his utter shame, humiliation, and pain, she squeezed his bulging appendage. He stopped struggling and let go of the girl. Still clutching his now throbbing thick pike, she guided him towards the firelight. She looked at him as he grimmaced, then slowly let go of his ego. It was quiet for sometime. He found no words, so he waited for her to speak.

 

After a long silence, she said, I knew you when we were both younger. My mother was saved on a battlefield, near a castle not far from here. We shared the same bread and fruits. My mother healed after some time and we left. I saw you in and around town but did not recognize you. She went quiet. Finally he spoke, "I saw you also and did know you. I remembered you and remembered you gave me a hug before you left. I just wanted a hug". "Just wanted a hug"? she said, "You break into my house, steal your way into my room, then accost me in the dark. What of this, this, this thing? What am I to think of that? You wanted a hug and you come to me like this? Get out"! Karne left dejectedly. He trudged back through the woods to his shelter, collected a few paltry belongings and disappeared.

 

Several years later, while sitting on the edge of a dock, an Argonian sailor walked up to him. He had never seen anyone like this before. The sailor said they needed another hand on the ship at the far end of the dock. Karne agreed as he had nothing else. He boarded the ship and followed the sailor to the berths. As the sailor turned to leave, Karne looked at him and said "I have been in misery for a long time. This bulge I have needs relief and I don't know how to take care of it. I see you have one too, can you help me. The sailor laughed heartily, gently reached into Karnes pants and pulled it out. He then took his own and showed karne the difference. He himself was mesmerized by karne's unique shape and size. For the next few hours the sailor talked with karne about his past, nickname and problems. The sailor left karne satisfied and with an understanding of what he had hanging there.

 

It turned out that Karne "The Skeever" Ingavar was a halfbreed argonian. Skeever's tail was never again pent up and the pains of his past washed away with the tide.

Edited March 3, 2012 by Brandy_123

[PikaNikz]

Brandy, I envy your talent and I really appreciate that you're sharing it with everyone.

 

Let me know which book cover you want to use for each of your stories.

http://img138.imageshack.us/img138/5058/slyrimcoverart.jpg

[Brandy1123]

Place Holder for Story 4 - As PikaNikz has done, please ask before using my writing. I am sure I'll give the approval.

 

As Always, these stories are in fun. What your mind gives and tells you from my stories are your doing and not mine.

 

I hope you enjoy .

 

 

The Tower

 

 

 

I was at the tower when it first arrived. Black as coal with an evil blueish gleam. From the south it flew on its journey of hate, stopping to quench its deep seated desire for destruction. Svengol saw it first, but not long after, all were witness. It started with a roar that shook everyone to the ground. A deep fear swelled up that was almost overwealming. We all ran for cover. It flew once overhead and blotted the sunlight with its huge wicked form.

 

Unlike anything before witnessed, it circled above as a wolf circles its prey. Its keen eyes burning as they passed over and beyond. Gendov, Svengol and Jurgen made the top of the tower, Kintrel, Jangra and Hronta were on or near the south wall. Torgol and Makkra at the base of the tower and I by myself took cover in a small drainage ditch near the roadway. I saw Jurgen on the top of the tower let loose an arrow as it made a pass. The arrow struck the beast but only seemed to heighten its anger, if that was possible. It turned wide to the right on a long sweeping arc, setting up its next run. Then, as if from legends, it folded its wings and came at the tower in a flash. A monstrous cry was let loose and flames engulfed the entire tower. The roar was defening but screams of pain and agony could be heard above the echoing thunder and the hot crackle of a raging fire.

 

A lifeless burning body fell with a thud across from me but closer to Kintrel near the base of the wall. I saw Kintrel yell in terror and frantically run, heading down along the road to the south. Hronta started after him, but the beast was already there. It came down fast and precise as it raked Krintrel with razor sharp talons and easily lifted his screaming body as it climbed. It tore him with his other claw and dropped his shredded shell to a silent, lonely impact.

 

Back around it came, this time we all were ready. A stream of arrows lept up from all. As fast as we could nock, we drew and released. Most of the feathered shafts missed their mark, and those that did strike, appeared to do little or nothing. Flames burst forth and the tower appeared as a torch. The screaming and yelling above us indicated great anguish as the pain from the heat and flames burned flesh and armor alike. This beast was real and it meant to stay.

 

Jangra was yelling at Torgol as it made it's last pass. He looked terrified, but listened as she laid out her plan. She then said something to Hronta and he darted towards the tower. As the Beast made its next turn, Torgol was dropping all his gear and laid low as everyone, including myself just let arrows fly. The winged behemoth responded by letting its searing hot breath lick the walls of the tower and along the open field east and beyond my sight.

 

That's when I saw him. Torgol bolted for the roadway north of me and ran like the very winds them self. He shed his armor, sword, shield and bow. I think I saw a dagger, but it was clear his intent wasn't a fight. I then realized, Jangra sent him for help. If he could top the main hill, the guards on town watch will surely see him. We needed to buy him time.

 

The creature was making its way as Torgol hit the road and started his trek. It seemed to take everything in at once and followed a precise path well above the tower. It then started a slow decent towards the running man. I only had precious seconds to react as I stood up from the hidden recess of the ditch and let an arrow fly. It struck the beast below the front claw and it veered slightly. With a wild twist of its head, it arced back and made a wide sweep. I darted for the southern end of the wall. For a moment, it appeared to forget about Torgol and spewed out a painful deafening roar with fire and smoke blowing wildly into the air about it. The arrow seemed to penetrate its thick scaley hide enough to tell us, it can be hurt.

 

It's pass took it over my head and I saw its eyes. Swelling with hatred and lust for destruction. It was marking me for its next go. I glanced back up the road and saw Torgol crest the hill and disappeared over its summit. The loud flapping sound brought me back to my real concern. Instantly I saw the beast's intent. It's spikey head reared back and then lunged forward as it closed the distance. I dove for cover on the other side of the wall as the structure was engulfed in a fiery nightmare of heat and shattered rock. The wake of the heat blast knocked me over as it powered its way past and up towards the sky. A score of arrows followed its path. I saw Hronta and Makkra pulling what looked like Svengol from the rubble. I don't think he made it.

 

Pass after pass this beast continued to test our will. Pass after pass it slowly leveled the tower and wall. Rubble was everywhere, smoke, burning wood, brick and flesh. Yet, with each pass, you could see a trail of arrows, mine included, following and sometimes striking this spawn of evil. On every wave, fire billowed up from the creatures belly, scorching and charring anything in clutched. Yelling of pain could be heard through the sight stealing murk of smoke and haze. Twangs of bowstrings were audible over roars of shouts, as if being played by a minstrel in a busy tavern. Again and again flames showered us from the sky. Time and Time the strength of men fought on and held their ground.

 

With arrows dwindling and resolve fading, a horn blast was heard from the north and west. It could only mean Torgol made the town. I had no idea where anyone else was, but I needed to get to a place I could gain cover. Along the wall I crept, trying to reach the doorways remains. I stopped to dodge a cascade of falling boulders and let one of my remaining arrows loose. I was about to step over some smoldering rubble when I spotted the torn remains of Gendov. I lept over him and kept on towards the tower's opening. Smokey debris lie strewn everywhere. Makkra was there, burned but capable and we joined together to make our stand. Noise above the broken and misshapen stairs told us we were not alone and someone else in the tower was still fighting on.

 

Through a break in the smoke and fog, I saw them. A squad of soldiers from the keep. I could make out the Captain herself leading the bunch. At her side was some stranger I had never seen. He was chiseled and hard. His eyes showed a resolve like none other. He wasn't wearing the issued uniform or armor from the town, but simple gear as a traveller would adorn. The helm perched upon his brow held high and outlined his stern look of determination. His sword at the ready, was flickering from a gem set deep into its belly. As the flicker of a candle in a soft breeze, a light danced out from the weapon. His other hand cradled a strange worn shield that truly has seen some far and forgotten recesses.

 

CRACK!. the walkway above me shattered and fell. I looked up and jumped trying to clear myself of this incoming mass of stone and wood. Flames hidden from view raced from behind the crumbling debris and stuck me hard. I was horribly burned and pinned under a block of charred stone. Smoldering ash and lumber landing on my broken body. Looking across, I saw Makkra run out and join forces with the new team of defenders. I tried to move but my legs and arms were cold and numb. I watched the battle unfurl from my place of rest.

 

The newcomer stepped out into an opening as the great beast passed. It seemed to sense him there and disregarded all others. Archers now lined the north end of the tower's remains, with the Captain standing at the fore with axe and sword drawn. Through the haze and my failing sight, I saw the creature turn fast and descend upon this lone man. A deafening roar was belched out with flames and raking claws as it landed just yards from the hardened warrior. Engulfed in the very oblivion flames that rent this tower of stone, the swordsman was lost from sight. The Captain, yelling commands, started forth with such speed, it was hard to see what she was doing. Sword and Axe bit deeply into the creatures left rear side and leg. Time and time she swung down with scores of strikes that truly would have severed limbs. As she dodged and readied another series of attacks, the great beast swept its tail and struck her hard. She tumble far to her right. She staggered up, gained her awareness and started moving again.

 

The beast turned back to the smoke and ash it's flames left behind. This great warrior stepped from the waste and sliced hard with his gleaming white sword. The creature reeled back, trying to gain the sky when that blade struck again, sending the wanton beast back to the ground. It reared its spiked and spiny head then bellowed an unnatural declaration at the force it wasn't ready to deal with.

 

As my vision dwindling and my body feeling the call of my ancestors, here is what I took with me.

 

This warrior himself reared back and returned a like gesture, as if cursing the great beast in its own lost tongue. Fire, reached out with his strange and deadly words engulfing the wounded thing. Flames hotter then its own seared though scaly hide, its soft under flesh and into the bone itself. With blinding speed, that great glowing sword bit into the evil spawn before him. As if falling backwards, it gained it full height on it back legs and tail. The whole of the Reach could have seen it over the tower had it still stood. Great out-stretching wings extended three times its height and wavered, then drooped. The creature bellowed out a last echoing scream from its broken and bloody mouth as it slumped to the ground at the foot of the warrior.

 

Fading now from my vision, I saw the captain join his side as he pulled that great jeweled blade from the deep gash he left in the creature's chest. He stepped back as if waiting for some other adversary to meet. I blinked my eyes and tried to focus as these strange rays of light emanated out from the defeated carcass and engulfed this man. As he stood with his head held high towards the clouds, he appeared as one taking in a refreshing spring rain. The great beast then started to burn. A mystical fire from within, no heat, but a crackle and flickering blue flame. Then it was gone. It could only mean one thing.

 

This man, this warrior. It must be. It can only be. Dovahkiin... Dragon..bor... Dovahki, Dovah

 

 

 

- darkness

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PikaNikz, as brandy is a golden color of brown, lets go with book cover 07 for them all. If the parchment is also a choice, I'd prefer number 63. Thanks for asking

Edited March 4, 2012 by Brandy_123